


In the God's Hands

by fawatson



Category: The Mask of Apollo - Mary Renault
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-06
Updated: 2008-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:49:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1637393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikeratos travels to Pella whe he learns Thettalos was imprisoned by Phillip of Macedon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the God's Hands

**Author's Note:**

> **Written for:** Tari
> 
>  **Yuletide Request:** I'd like a story focusing on their relationship. What makes them work in comparison to Plato and Dion? Something set after the book, when Thettalos goes into Alexander's service might be good to read. Alternatively a moment during canon itself: when do they become lovers?
> 
>  **Acknowledgements:** Many thanks to my sister, Greer Watson, who kindly beta-read it for me.  
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters and make no profit by them. 
> 
> **Author's Notes:**   
>  If you like the novel _The Mask of Apollo_ I recommend you take a look at: http://community.livejournal.com/maryrenaultfics/ where there is more fanfic based on this book.  
>  In particular, if you want more about Nikeratos and Thettalos, I recommend the "In Their Own Words" series. Here is the link to the 'interview' with them: http://community.livejournal.com/maryrenaultfics/206968.html#cutid1 - look down the page a bit as other characters from other novels were interviewed before them). I'd also suggest the "Overheard" thread (look for 'Poet's Corner' part way down the page - here is the link: http://community.livejournal.com/maryrenaultfics/207469.html#cutid1  
> I couldn't feel right about writing something about Niko and Thettalos as new lovers because that has already been done by Baranduin, who founded the maryrenaultfics community. You can find her excellent story about this at: http://community.livejournal.com/maryrenaultfics/36822.html. Instead I chose to write about the time when Thettalos became Alexander's messenger, at which point both he and Niko were well established actors and lovers.  
> Tari - I do hope you enjoy this story; it is my first for Mask of Apollo, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. 

Two rabbits dashed across the path ahead and darted into the underbrush as Nikeratos took the left fork of the trail that led round the side of the hill and led his donkey toward a farm he could see in the distance. He had slept in a shepherd's hut the previous night, which had at least provided shelter from the blustery wind, for the fleas as well as him. This night he hoped for more congenial company. In many ways he regretted turning off the main route north, not least because this trail was much rougher. Nonetheless there were few times the god spoke so clearly as Apollo had at the last town he'd stopped in. That dream he'd had, and then waking to find the mask resting in front of him, instead of wrapped and secure in the bottom of his pack. Its eyeholes had been the first things his own eyes had focused on. Well, it was a foolish man who did not heed such portents.

Niko had been in Thebes when he got word Philip had had Thettalos brought to him in chains. Fortunately it had been the last city planned for the tour, so he was able to make arrangements to get away immediately after the last performance, leaving his second to take the troupe back to home base. Antymion was up to it, and it would be good practice for when he formed his own company. Perhaps next year Niko would tour with Thettalos again, assuming he'd got this political business out of his system. Maybe that production of Niobe they'd been talking over; the shift from hubris to grief would be a good challenge. They'd have done it this year if Thettalos hadn't had the notion to play messenger. He needed to remember his primary allegiance. Hermes was the trickster god, best avoided by actors. Still, Niko couldn't criticise, really. He, too, had had his fling with politics. And Alexander did have a way about him. 

Curses and shouting announced the farm to him as Nikeratos turned another bend in the path. 

"Stupid cow!" 

A thickset man with a bristling black beard and deep-set eyes was belabouring his servant with a heavy cudgel. Broken crockery and spilt oil bore silent witness to the girl's plight. She was huddled on the ground, head bent, hands protected beneath her. His heavy blows made her body shake. Niko's donkey brayed as it entered the farmyard, distracting the farmer, who turned towards the lone traveller entering his farmyard. He frowned unwelcomingly. The heavy pack on the donkey's back was indicative of a long journey, but Niko did not have the look of a peddler. 

"Who are you?" The question was abrupt, the tone of voice suspicious. 

"Nikeratos of Epeiros." Niko thought it wise not to mention Athens this far north. 

"I am travelling to Pella to join my uncle; he has work for me at his inn." Given the look of the man, he also thought it wise to pretend his arrival was expected. 

"Humph." With one final kick at the girl, the farmer turned away from her and approached Niko. The girl scuttled off to one side and sat on the step of the house, checking her bruises and drying her tears with her skirts. 

"This is no inn; and this is not the main road. What brought you this way?"

"I think I took a wrong turn at the last fork. I turned in here for directions."

Niko had quickly abandoned his hopes of pleasant company and was now looking to reverse his path as gracefully as possible. 

"Humph." The man spat on the ground. "Not good weather to be travelling - cold for this time of year."

"No indeed," agreed Niko, fixing his most innocuous expression on his face. "But I am to be married to my cousin next week, so there was no delaying the trip. If I could refill my waterskin and get some directions, I'll trouble you no further."

"Humph." There was a pause while the farmer pondered the request. "The well's there; the girl will bring you a bucket." He turned to look at her and gave a shout of disgust. A half-grown striped kitten was curled on her lap, nibbling at a small piece of cheese she had clearly tempted it with. With two huge strides he was upon them. The kitten was flung across the yard; the girl was thrown to the ground. Her head snapped back from his heavy blow to the side of her head. The farmer's hand rose again with clear intent. 

Niko did not pause to consider his actions, before moving to stay the man. He'd not been tasked by Apollo Epikourios before, but he could nonetheless recognise when a god had him firmly in his grip. Whatever his misgivings, there could be no avoiding it.

"She does seem troublesome," Niko offered, "but perhaps I have a solution. I am in need of a servant - a gift for my bride..." 

As the small group moved off down the path a short while later, Nikeratos realised he had never heard the girl called anything but `stupid cow' by the farmer. She must have a real name though. 

"What are you called?" he asked, as they passed out of earshot of the farmer.

"Helen"

She was a scrawny young woman, with tangled greasy hair and plain features. This was not the face that launched a thousand ships. Her mother must have been an eternal optimist to give her such a name, Niko thought. But he kept it to himself. After all, she could not help what she had been called.

As they walked they exchanged stories. Hers was a common one: raped and carried off as the spoils of war when 13, then sold a few weeks later to pay the soldier's gambling debts. She was 17 now and had been at the farm for four summers, keeping house during the day and working on her back at night, serving both the farmer and local lads he sold her favours to. Had she had no children, Niko asked? One stillborn three years ago, came the reply. It came early after a beating and the birth had torn something inside. Since then her womb had not quickened. Niko nodded, understanding. No hope for her of anything beyond drudgery and abuse once she was known to be barren.

They must have walked two miles before making camp for the night. A small clearing in front of an overhanging rock face provided space for the donkey to graze and there was a stream nearby. Niko left Helen to set the donkey's hobbles and start a fire, while he went off towards the stream. He had a snare with him and a line for fishing. He set the former outside a likely looking hole in the ground and then sat down on a fallen log to dangle the hook in the water. Quite soon he had three fish, which he left to rest with the tackle while he went to check his snare. No luck there, but as he turned back to the fish he saw a quick movement in the undergrowth. One fish was missing. Carefully, Niko pushed back the branches to find a puppy growling at him, half eaten fish in its paws, preparing to defend its scavenging. It looked thin and its fur was matted with burs. 

Niko used his knife to slit open the belly of one of the remaining fish and then held his entrails-smeared hand out for the puppy to sniff. He was taking a chance, but the dog was young. He kept his arm very still, as he crouched down slowly. The growls tapered off, a warm wet nose tested the fishy hand, and a pink tongue ventured to lick him. Clearly whatever its recent wild wanderings, this little dog had been tame once. Perhaps it had wandered from its mother unnoticed, or she had met with some accident. Perhaps it had been deliberately abandoned in the woods. Niko could only speculate. It was his now. He remained sitting before the little dog while it finished the fish, then patiently stroked its ears until it fell asleep. Niko picked up this gift from the gods, along with the rest of the day's catch, and returned to camp. 

A brief meal done with, they settled for the night. There was only one cloak and bedroll, which Helen and Niko shared for warmth. The girl's fingers ventured toward his loincloth but were soon halted. She was clearly surprised not to be used by him, but since she acted from duty to her new master, rather than real interest, readily accepted his rejection. Helen fell asleep quickly, worn out by travel. Niko joined her in Hypnos' arms soon after, his own arms round the puppy, also snuggled under the cloak. The striped kitten, hind leg splinted, draped herself across his head. 

The group arrived in town at mid-afternoon next day. Enquiries quickly relieved the worst of Nikeratos' worries; Thettalos had been released a few days before. It was a rag-tag party that made its weary way down the street toward the inn where he was staying. The building was in a prominent position, albeit on a side street, and easy to locate. Niko could see Thettalos sitting outside enjoying the clear sunny day, jugs and cups on the table in front of him. His laughter rang loud and clear down the street, leading Niko to him. 

Thettalos looked up as the small travel-weary group stopped in front of the inn. Not that that was a surprise. This was an inn, after all, used to the grime of newly arriving guests. But there was something different about this group. It took him a minute to recognise Niko under his beard, with... Thettalos' eyebrows arched in silent query: a girl, a dog, and - was that a cat peeping out from the drawstring opening of the donkey's pack? His mouth quirked. Quite the odyssey; perhaps not ten years long, but there would be a tale to be told!

"Niko, how wonderful to see you; this is most unexpected though." With a dramatic gesture he waved his right arm at Niko's companions.

Nikeratos' head nodded in acknowledgement. "I set out when I heard Philip had imprisoned you; I arrived to learn Alexander had arranged to set you free."

"My dear!" exclaimed Thettalos, "but I would not have thought of this! To come all this way, at such risk! I would never have asked it of you. I am no Dion."

Nikeratos looked at his dear friend of many years. Thettalos sprawled in a spacious armchair filled with cushions, his left arm round the.... Niko blinked as he looked more closely... really quite remarkably beautiful youth beside him. The slight splashes of wine on the table, and silly smile on the face of Thettalos' companion, revealed how they had been enjoying themselves. No Dion indeed. And no Penelope either.

"Here, sit down my dear, do." Once again, Thettalos gestured, this time toward the other chairs at the table. Niko sank gratefully into one of the seats, letting his pack rest on the ground at his feet. A cup appeared on the table before him, full of wine. He took a long swallow, sputtering slightly when he realised its strength, before he looked across again at the man he had travelled so far to find. Thettalos was watching with a broad grin on his face, and he waggled his expressive eyebrows. 

"Bacchus will help."

 


End file.
